


Dim the Lights

by upallnightstrungtight



Series: staring at the sun [2]
Category: Super Junior, Super Junior-M
Genre: Asexual Character, Domination/submission, M/M, asexual-allosexual relationship, biromantic asexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At this point, he’s figured out a few things: he likes Ryeowook, kissing, getting reactions, and making Ryeowook happy. He just doesn't want to be touched <i>there</i>. For once, that might not be too much to ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dim the Lights

Henry runs to the door precisely because it feels a million miles away. It’s been _weeks_ of tired smiles in passing and the hallway is thankfully empty. The cupcake should survive if he holds onto it tightly enough. He looks down to his unfortunate companion as he knocks with his other hand. _It’s just a little squished, it’s still good, it’s still good._ He knocks again, rocks back and forth on his feet, looks around. He’s just stuffed half of it into his mouth when the door finally opens, slowly lifting his other hand and wiggling his fingers in a sheepish wave.

Ryeowook opens the door wider to let him in, completely unfazed by his antics. He sets the cupcake down on the nightstand before shedding all the accessories of outside with a relieved sigh. He’s not happy with this sudden cold snap. Luckily, this little room has all the warmth he needs, and the click of the lock is an incredible relief. “I’m here,” he says, ritualistically, as if here is a specific place that he’s been before. _Well, home is where the heart is, as they say._

“Welcome back,” Ryeowook says, the same way. He licks his lips, watching intensely as Henry sits on the edge of the bed. “Oh,” a bit breathy now, “I really missed you,” taking slow, languid steps forward.

“Yeah, no one’s as fun to torment as you,” Henry says with a bounce. Then, he only has enough time to think, _Oh._

Ryeowook practically launches himself at Henry, connecting with a hard kiss. He’s knocked back a bit with the force of it. Ryeowook’s mouth is open against his, gliding, tongues tentatively touching tip to tip for a moment or two before his is sucked in, the frosting quickly disappearing. Ryeowook’s hand doesn’t rest on the side of his neck for long, sliding firmly down his chest, then his stomach, quickly approaching his belt. Henry gently grabs his wrist and stops him, easing him away, only panicking a tiny bit.

He’s not stupid; he knew this conversation was coming. He’s just surprised it’s so soon. He’s never seen this side of Ryeowook before. In some ways, not much has changed until now – there’s more handholding and cuddling, to be sure, and the kissing is new, but that’s been the extent of the external changes. Of course, in the ways that matter to him, everything’s changed. _Okay, I can do this, I prepared for it._ He takes a deep breath, practicing the right words in his mind for a few moments.

In the meantime, Ryeowook looks absolutely mortified, sitting stiffly back on the bed, head turned away and cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! I shouldn’t go so fast. Sorry!”

“It’s not that,” Henry says slowly, still gathering the hurricane of everything he wants to say. “I’m okay doing that to you, but I don’t want to be touched _there_.” Ryeowook’s eyes widen, his eyebrows scrunching together, and Henry knows exactly what’s coming. He frantically waves his hands in an attempt to ward it off. “Nonono, it’s nothing like that. Seriously. This isn’t a drama. I’ve always been this way.”

Luckily, Ryeowook drops the crisis counseling look. He stays leaning forward, head tilted to the right. “What do you mean, this way?”

Somehow, this part doesn’t get any less nerve-wracking with preparation. “I don’t… well… I don’t get turned on.” Henry stops for a moment, pursing his lips, hesitant. He decides on the direct approach and hovers his hand somewhere over Ryeowook’s navel, eyebrows raised in a silent question. He feels less tense when he gets a nod, accompanied by an amused smile. “If I touch you like this,” he darts his hand under the hem of Ryeowook’s shirt, fingertips trailing up along smooth skin as he talks, “it feels good, but different than hugging a friend, right?”

Ryeowook visibly swallows, no longer amused. “Yeah. It feels good,” he says, voice impossibly soft with a slight tremble. His arms stay at his sides while he bends towards the touch. “So, ng, you’re different?”

“Exactly. To me, as long as it’s not _there_ , it feels good the same way as hugging a friend does.” Henry’s fingers peek through the collar of Ryeowook’s shirt, trace along his collarbone, then start curving back down at the edge. _This could be going worse._ “If someone touches me _there_ , I don’t like it at all.” Slow and soft, circling his nipple and feeling the change in texture, then back down the length of his abdomen in lazy curves before withdrawing. It’s surprising, how passive Ryeowook is, completely different from just a few minutes ago. “Hey, are you okay? Was that alright?”

Ryeowook opens his eyes halfway and sends him a soft smile. “Yeah. Really, really alright.” He takes a slow, deep breath. “You can keep talking.”

 _He can always tell when I’m not done._ Henry felt that swell of affection in his chest, long familiar but fresh with permission. “So, since I didn’t want some of those things, it was usually easier to not do anything for as long as I could. My exes thought I was shy, or romantic, or,” he shrugs, feeling the echo of those fights, “you know, all kinds of things. I… wasn’t good at talking about it before.” Now _he’s_ the one who’s embarrassed. Ryeowook rubs solid, soothing circles into his knee. “So I tried not to talk about it at all. It wasn’t my best idea. It’s not…” He puts his hand over Ryeowook’s and squeezes. “It’s not a problem, is it? I still want to make you feel good.” He tries for a smirk, though it comes out a bit shaky.

Ryeowook frowns, but with confusion, or perhaps worry, not a hint of malice. “I don’t understand. You… want to have sex but you don’t… feel pleasure from it?”

“Kind of. When you give me a present, you feel happy, right? Even though I’m the one who has it, you feel happy because I’m happy, right?” Ryeowook nods twice in rapid succession. “It’s the same, just sweatier.” Henry grins. “You know, I didn’t expect you to be so calm, talking about sex.”

“You!” Ryeowook’s cheeks redden again and he raises his hand in an all-too-familiar motion, glaring. “Is this a joke to you? I’m trying to be nice.” He curls his free hand into a loose fist, tapping it lightly against the coverlet a few times. He looks away about thirty degrees. His upraised hand relaxes, as if he’d already forgotten it.

“Come on, you can ask me a hundred questions some other time. I think there’s something you wanna do more,” Henry says, looking down slow like molasses, moving his chin to make it more obvious. He manages that smirk this time as he looks back up. _Too easy. I wish I’d known years ago that it was this easy to make him blush._

Ryeowook snaps his head forward, shooting him a hungry look. “You’re not _fair_ ,” he says, voice rising just short of a whine. “You make me so _greedy_ , just by being you, but I never want to tell you no.”

 _Is it even **possible** for one person to be as lucky as I am?_ Henry moves forward, touching forehead to forehead and nose to nose. “Dummy, you tell me no all the time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t _want_ to. Whose fault is it that I want to give you everything?”

He smirks at Ryeowook’s pout. “You get so _sappy_ when you don’t see me for a while.”

“Look who’s talking, jerk,” Ryeowook snaps back, the crinkling of his eyes noticeable even this close. “If I still had some of the texts you sent me, you wouldn’t laugh anymore.” He moves his hands to Henry’s shoulders, gripping firmly as he moves the mere inch down to press lip to lip, feather light. “But thank you. It was easier because of that.”

“Yeah,” Henry whispers, “I know.” The megawatt smile he gets is more than worth feeling like a giant cheeseball. He squishes Ryeowook to him, nuzzling into sweet-smelling hair. The gears in his head turn. “Hey, my cupcake!” He turns to grab it off the nightstand but finds his motion incomplete.

Ryeowook is grinning mischeviously. “Where are you going? I’m not done hugging you!”

“But… cupcake!” Henry pouts.

“That won’t work this time.” Ryeowook leans forward and pushes at Henry’s shoulders until they both fall over. He drapes himself over Henry and curls up on his chest. It’s unbearably precious. Henry strokes his hair with one hand and reaches over to the nightstand with the other one more time, extending his arm until finally, he reaches the majestic cupcake once more. Managing a small bite, he only overbalances a tiny bit when he returns it. Ryeowook’s the one pouting when he looks back.

“No patience at all!”

“Look who’s talking,” he says, muffled a bit by cupcake. He grabs Ryeowook’s wrists and pushes him back to sitting up. Once again, that passivity seems to sweep over him and he stays where Henry placed him. His nails are digging into his thighs. Two and two are starting to add up. “Oh. You **like** that.” Ryeowook squeezes his eyes shut and nods. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Look at me.” His eyes immediately open. “We’ll get everything worked out, okay?” Another nod, teeth now digging into the center of his lip.

“For now, let’s just go nice and slow. Here, I’ll go first.” Henry undoes the buttons of his shirt one by one, watching Ryeowook’s gaze follow each one with heat. “See, this affects you, right?” He gets a distracted hum in response. “To me, bodies are just bodies. They’re not a big deal.” Now that he’s started talking about it, part of him doesn’t want to stop. Tossing the shirt over the side, he continues, “I know what I like to look at, but I don’t like it the same way you like it.” He grabs the hem of his undershirt with his wrists crossed, pulling it off and letting it drop from his hand in one fluid motion. Smug and unashamed, he holds his chin up and shoulders back to say for him, _Look all you like._ "I’m just a bit different. We've always been a bit different, right?"

"Right...”

“So that’s okay? Still with me?”

"Yes," Ryeowook mumbles, licking the indent in his lip. "Sorry, just thinking." His eyes are moving, but definitely staying below the neck.

 _Still too cute._ Henry chuckles. "Sure, thinking. You just wanna touch, don’t you." He lays back and places his hands behind his head. “Go ahead, I’m all yours.” He waits for a reply, expecting something at once prickly and sweet, but there’s nothing except the warmth of Ryeowook’s hand settling over his heart. After he nods, Ryeowook brings both hands into the picture, stroking and grasping over arms and chest and abdomen in no discernible pattern. His breathing is increasingly audible; he clearly likes the firm planes of muscle that he touches over and over again.

Henry feels like some ancient king being worshipped, considers asking for a massage some other time. He suspects this is what cats feel like when they're being petted. Upon opening his eyes again, slow and serene, he sees hands hovering over his hips and a questioning look. He lets out a pleased hum and nods again, loving the way Ryeowook's being so _careful_. "Hips are fine. Take these off," he says as he lifts said hips, content to let Ryeowook handle his belt. It’s possible that he appreciates watching those delicate hands in motion. He keeps that feeling with him everywhere.

The "okay" that Ryeowook breathes, the gentle, tentative way he undoes the button and just barely holds the zipper to pull it down, soso lightly, makes Henry feel that tightening in chest again. Makes him feel like he trusted the right person. The slide of the denim over his skin is nice, having something so simple done for him even nicer. Every time his lover’s eyes dart back up to his, more built-up tension drains out of him.

"Okay," Ryeowook says again, rubbing up and down, up and down over the swathe of cotton. His thumbs trace along both hip bones at once, the pressure just enough to stop short of tickling. He holds more firmly, substantial and grounding, then fabric gives way to bare thigh, which he seems enamored with. Henry contracts the muscles there, delighting him even more, if his grin is anything to go by. He bends his head down, then looks back up to wait for another nod before placing a light kiss at mid-thigh.

“You’re great. I thought you would be upset.” Henry’s always had to believe in counting his blessings instead of doubting them. He sits up, keeping his legs bent. Even here, he gets antsy when he’s still too long.

“But, you weren’t upset about me… well…” Ryeowook’s voice loses half its volume and all of its luster. “Being _strange_.”

“Strange? What’s strange?” _There’s always something new and terrible to learn, isn’t there._

Ryeowook looks down at his hands on Henry’s calves, actually massaging now. He focuses there for a long, silent moment. “You saw earlier. When you… moved me or… you know… told me what to do. It’s strange to like that sometimes, isn’t it?” His shoulders are hunched in, expression flat. He seems to be blinking more than usual.

“It’s not strange. And it’s not anyone else’s concern. What we do is our business.” Ryeowook still looks unhappy and unfocused, hands unmoving on Henry’s shins, splayed just below the knees. Henry grabs his hands with his own and tugs. “Come here. Listen to me.” Ryeowook follows easily, ends up sprawled haphazardly over him. He hugs the other man close to him. “There’s nothing wrong. You’re fine the way you are. You got that?” Compressing every bit of affection and confidence he has into those meager words is all he can do.

“Yeah, I understand.” The glow is back in Ryeowook’s eyes, in his whole face, really. Henry truly wonders how he missed that for so long.

“Great. Now get naked.”

“…What?”

 _That’s still my favorite reaction. That face is priceless._ Chuckling, he sits up against the headboard. “Come on, fair’s fair.” He tries dropping the smile, switching from a jovial tone to a commanding one. “Strip.” That works **much** better, judging by the way Ryeowook’s breath hitches. He has this amazing expression of contentment that Henry hasn’t seen in… a long time, possibly not since the early years. “Everything, come on. Then sit here,” he pats his inner thighs twice, “with your back to me.”

He feels a frisson of warmth in his chest at how pliant Ryeowook is, how he lets himself be guided, telegraphing his trust with every motion. Henry desperately wants to be worthy of that trust. Wants so badly for Ryeowook to always hear, _Safe. Safe. You’re safe with me._ Wants him to remember how that feels when there’s no one around to remind him. He's positive Ryeowook isn't like this with anyone else. It's beautiful, fragile, and for the first time today, Henry feels out of his depth. He places a kiss on the crook of neck and shoulder, hearing a new breathy sigh. “Still okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just… need.” The kisses graze across the back of his neck and along his shoulder. He’s holding himself stationary, muscles taut, fists clenching and unclenching with each touch.

“What do you need?” Henry continues down the expanse of his arm, bending as far as he can before bringing Ryeowook’s wrist to his mouth. He laps at the soft skin he finds there, waits for the gentle sighs before suckling down the same path. He licks his way back up like a blunted knife, pointed and smooth.

“Any-anything you’ll give me,” Ryeowook finally answers, sounding like words are an unbearable hardship to fit in between the raw noises that escape him almost continuously. “Please!” He groans. His other hand has wandered up into his own hair.

In lieu of answering directly, Henry continues his journey, ghosting along the palm he’s holding, feeling the warmth of his breath reflected. He kisses the base of Ryeowook’s index finger, each joint, the swirl of his fingerprint, continuing along each column in turn. Bending the smallest one with his chin, he repeats the process along the back of each curve and each knuckle. He sucks one in, uncaring of the tang and salt he tastes, surprised by how much he enjoys this new part of their push-pull. His tongue curls around it, pressing it to the roof of his mouth, then swirls around the tip. He sucks hard along the way to releasing it with an exaggerated pop. A devilish smile is unwilling to leave his face as he looks back to Ryeowook.

His brow is furrowed and he’s actually biting his tongue, his eyes begging even louder than his voice did. He seems to be unaware of the minute twitches of his hips. Desperation looks stunningly gorgeous on him.

“Touch yourself,” Henry says, gripping Ryeowook’s wrist firmly to direct its descent along his body. “I want to see you come.” The choked-off sound he makes is as fascinating as his repeated surprise. That the interest is aesthetic doesn’t seem to matter here. Henry supposes he has a bit of a contrary streak in him; he knows how Ryeowook always likes to look put together, so he wants to see him falling apart, messy and laid bare. In a good way, of course. He lets go, confident enough in the control of his words, and trails his hand up, up, up.

Ryeowook’s soft pants are rhythmical, regular, strangely alluring. His face is warm and slightly damp when Henry cups his cheek, turning his head with just a hint more force than strictly necessary. His eyes are shut tight. He blinks them open for only a moment before closing them again to the hard press of lips on his with a sharp “mh!”

With his left hand, Henry takes Ryeowook’s and entwines their fingers together, hard push on one side with soft landing on the other. He disconnects and reconnects the kiss again and again as he pleases, just for the sensual sensation of it, occasionally landing on lips open in the middle of a quiet moan. He’s overcome with adoration just from being aware of how well this is going. He kisses Ryeowook’s forehead, the tip of his nose, each cheek in turn, then his chin, pouring it all back out, then adjusting him as needed to place a line of kisses along his jaw. Hearing the staccato “ah, ah, ah” is pleasant rather than worrisome.

One more tiny, harmless experiment is in order. Henry’s curiosity gets the better of him, so he whispers in Ryeowook’s ear, “So good. You’re doing so good.” His whole body seems to tense and arch up, dropping just as quickly as his “ _ha_ ahn” fades, the most intense of any noise he’s made. _I’d call that a success._ The heat of exertion rolls off him in shaking waves. When he comes, it’s even more imperfectly beautiful than expected. There was no way to know beforehand how interesting it would be to watch his loss of control up close. The length of him freezes and his eyes shut, as if every extraneous sensation is overwhelming. His mouth falls open, all the air in the world not enough for the moment that sound is lost to him. It’s so _different_ from his purposely intense look of seduction; nonetheless, its components are suddenly clear.

Henry thinks of images framed by screens, distant and untouchable. Incomparable. Insufficient. He watches the rise and fall of deep breaths, feeling a racing heart gradually slowing. He thinks, but doesn’t want to know, that parting makes the return all the sweeter.

With every exhale, tension visibly leaves Ryeowook’s body. A dozen breaths in, he emits a lethargic “mmmmmm.” Henry grabs a few tissues and gently wipes off Ryeowook’s abdomen and over the spots on his ribs, remembering how rough these cheap ones can be from unfortunately-timed colds. Deep, relaxed breaths move the skin beneath his hands. Ryeowook’s face remains a captivating tableau, the soft lines and sharp angles, the shape of his nose and his lips and his eyebrows forming some indescribable sort of enchanting combination. He throws away the tissues, freeing his hands to trace that wonderful geometry, smiling blissfully.

Sleepy eyes blink up at him, accompanied by a tender kiss to the palm of his roaming hand as it traces an eyebrow. “Love you,” Ryeowook says, easily uttering it in the way that only he can. Grinning, his drowsiness becomes more and more apparent as his face starts going slack.

“Love you,” Henry returns, still wired and unaccustomed to this. Nonetheless, he’s kept his commitment to avoid cowardice where it counts. “Hey, next time we meet, find somewhere private for us and I'll suck you,” he murmurs to his beloved. Ryeowook lets out a low groan. Riling him up is just so much _fun_ and Henry’s been handed a million new ways on a silver platter. “I've got some other ideas too,” he continues, grinning, feeling every bit the imp he must resemble, “but for now, you'll just have to wait and see.” As long as his torment has follow-through, he’s sure his lover will ultimately be happy.

“Heeeenryyyy,” Ryeowook says, pleading, “I still need to get some sleep!” The jolt subsiding, Ryeowook's eyelids close again and he starts curling into himself. Henry reaches over to the floor, flopping onto his stomach to pick up a shirt, then nudges Ryeowook's shoulder.

“Hey, come on, you need to put something on first. It's cold.” Ryeowook grumbles incoherently, but sits back up and raises his arms. Once the shirt’s settled down, his hair’s even more of a wild mess. S _o fucking adorable._

“Sleep now. Alarm's already on.” Henry presses against his back, one hand curling over his hip.

“Nap time, I got it.”

“Be quiet already,” Ryeowook mumbles.

_Mine._


End file.
